


No rush

by Splinter



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Movie(s), Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 13:31:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7759684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splinter/pseuds/Splinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey,” he says, against her lips. “Can go slow.”</p>
<p>“Make me,” she says, because she’s feeling contrary and maybe sparring is what she needs. That’s not what he does.</p>
<p>Fill for the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Smutty_artsPromptChallenge">smutty_arts art prompt challenge</a>, inspired by <a href="http://ghostsjogging.tumblr.com/">ghostsjogging</a>’s lovely art</p>
            </blockquote>





	No rush

Furiosa is fidgety. She’s been doing fiddly work in the garage all day, tracing and fixing tiny faults until she just wants to hit something with a hammer. Max has been on a lookout shift; when they meet in the corridor, she takes his hand and tugs, wanting to get him back to their room. He smiles, slow and lazy, and lets her hustle him in.

She gets her arm off, bars the door and pushes him up against it, enjoying his pleased grunt. He likes it when she does this.

So does she, but she’s still restless, unfocused. She wants to touch him everywhere, can’t quite coordinate what she’s doing. After a moment, he gets an arm round her waist, a hand in her hair, slowing her kiss down. 

“Hey,” he says, against her lips. “Can go slow.”

“Make me,” she says, because she’s feeling contrary and maybe sparring is what she needs. That’s not what he does.

He kisses her again, unhurried. Then he turns her in his arms. He makes sure she can see it coming, but he’s not tentative or cautious about putting her where he wants her. As soon as she has her back to him, his mouth is hot on her neck, his arms firm around her waist and ribs. It’s not a fighting hold – he’s not actually pinning her – but it reminds her how much strength he has in his upper body.

“Don’t need to rush,” he murmurs, working his way up her neck. His mouth is going gently, but his voice is already rough. She shivers.

He’s taking his time, soft lips and a scrape of stubble, nibbling at sensitive spots. She can feel her heart beating faster, but the fidgety tension is fading. She’s breathing loud and deep.

“Better?” She swallows, manages a nod. Still kissing her neck, he reaches down to her trousers, opening her fastenings and slipping a hand inside to cup her pussy. He’s not stroking or even pressing; as with his grip on her ribs, she’s aware of the strength he isn’t using, of the size and warmth of his hand. His mouth moves to the spot under her ear, works there until she whimpers. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Her voice isn’t quite steady, and even with her back to him she knows he’s grinning.

He walks her to the bed, still holding her, his hand between her legs. She’s so wet she thinks she must be dripping on him. He doesn’t take his hand away until he turns her and tips her back, supporting her weight as he rolls her down against the pillows. He kisses her, a light touch of lips, and crouches to undo her boots.

Peeling off her leathers and her underwear, he drops kisses as he goes: her belly, the crease of her thigh, her ankle. He leaves her in her rucked-up shirt as he stops to take his own clothes off. Furiosa lies and watches him, sprawled out and waiting, enjoying the view. 

He climbs over her, body sliding over hers. One hand holds his weight up as the other strokes and strokes. Not quite where she expects: over her side, down her thigh, nowhere near her cunt or even her breasts. He leans in and kisses her cheek, under her jaw, then pulls away to kneel between her open legs, watching and touching her. He pushes her shirt up further, curving his hand around her breast. She’s getting goosebumps, skin prickling. She pulls him in to kiss him.

Max strokes over her belly, his hand back between her thighs. She rocks her hips up against him, feels him press a little harder. He hasn’t parted the lips of her pussy, but she feels a jolt from remote pressure on her clit, though it’s not even a touch yet. His cock is nudging hard at her thigh. 

He dips his fingers in, a light stroke down that glances over her clit – she twitches at that – and circles her cunt. Furiosa squirms, impatient little jerks of her hips, and feels his laughter, his shoulder shaking and a harder puff of breath against her mouth. He trails his thumb over her nipple, the lightest of touches. Then he slips two fingers into her cunt.

Not deep: he’s still teasing, fingers just nudging into her. She’s so wet, opening easily, but he barely goes beyond the first ring of muscle, not even giving her friction. She squirms again; he’s still ignoring her clit. His thumb rests on her thigh, his palm soft against her pussy. 

She’s breathing hard, gripping his shoulder, eyes sliding shut as her mouth opens for his tongue. He works his fingers further in, starts to curl them. He’s pressing against her inner wall of muscle, inching up to where it’s most sensitive. His hand rocks very softly, so he keeps almost touching the right place. She flexes her hips again, trying to push into it.

When she whimpers, she can feel him smile against her cheek, even with her eyes closed. He pushes deeper, gives her just a little more, still not quite enough. Her cunt clenches, a pulse going through her. He ducks his head to suck at her throat, where her blood is beating hard. 

He’s so intent on her, so focused. Each light touch has such a sense of intent behind it, of power in reserve. He knows her body, is skilled at working it; he’s making her wait but laying her open too, shivery jolts going through her until she can hardly think straight.

His cock is urgent against her, but that doesn’t seem to distract him. He lets it rest on her, not even rubbing, just a hot, hard weight against her. She can feel it twitch – when her hips buck, after a louder moan. He must be tantalising himself as well as her.

She’s pushing up as hard as she can, chasing his fingers. He’s pumping them now, sensation flaring and fading each time he rubs and pulls away. He presses his whole hand against the open lips of her pussy, grinding his palm against her clit. She groans out loud. It’s not as precise as his fingers, but so much teasing has left her sensitive and greedy: she’ll take what she can get. His hand is moving harder, fingers and palm working at her. 

Furiosa gasps as her cunt clenches, her whole body heated, sweat between her thighs and in the small of her back. It’s still so slow: she feels her body racing ahead and being pulled back, kept on the brink. When she opens her eyes, he’s watching her, half smiling. It’s part provoking, checking her reactions so he can push her further, and part just fondness, so open that she stares, feels it as a warm weight on her heart. When he sees her looking, he leans in to kiss her, licking at her lips as he curls his fingers harder, presses deeper.

He keeps pressing steadily as she shudders around his fingers, as if he’s never going to let up now that he’s got there. When she thinks her body has peaked, that she’s starting to come down, he speeds up, changes the pressure. Furiosa is moaning as he rolls her from one orgasm into another. Her legs are trembling. He sucks her pulse again, this time with a gentle little bite. 

She’s still panting when he eases his fingers out of her. He cups her face to kiss her; his fingertips are damp and wrinkled. His cock is hard between them, leaving a smear of wet across her belly.

“Ohhh,” she says, on a long sigh. He grins, looks thoroughly pleased with himself. After a moment, she lifts her legs up around his waist, thrusting her hips and enjoying the surprised noise that gets out of him. “You going to fuck me?” She’s not going to come again, but she wants to have him inside her, to feel him let go, now that he’s finished working her over. He kisses her again. Furiosa wriggles, getting their hips aligned so that he can thrust into her. She wraps her arms around him, hooking her legs tighter, ignoring how wobbly her knees feel. 

“Now,” she says, nibbling his ear, making her voice as low and dirty as she knows how. Max shivers. “Just how slow do you want to go?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm at [lurkinghistoric](http://lurkinghistoric.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.


End file.
